


empty

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Mental Health Issues, Nonbinary Chara (Undertale), Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 17:18:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17228108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: the beginning of a bad habit





	empty

**Author's Note:**

> this is a vent fic where i project on chara, but i'm posting it because i like chara angst. there are kinda graphic descriptions of self-harm in this, talking about what's happening in real time, so please click off of this fic if this is triggering to you. take care of yourselves <3

They don't really know why it happens. Actually, they do. Their life is shitty and worthless. 

It started with them raking their nails across their lower back, as they were laying down. The slight tingle feels nice, so they do it harder and harder, pausing every once in awhile to run their fingers over the wide, overlapping welts their nails left in their wake. They do it until their skin becomes sticky to the touch, not quite bleeding but enough that their nails raked through a layer or two of skin. The welts are warm from the blood rushing underneath them. 

Chara doesn't really think of it as a problem. When they're changing in the bathroom, they catch a glimpse of their lower back. It's red and the deep pink welts are prominent against their skin, and curiosity builds in their mind until they're shaking their head. They're not some nutcase. This was a one-time thing. 

It's shoved to the back of their mind, but the intention of doing it again is a promise. The smarting of pain Chara feels as the waistband of their sweatpants brushes against their wounds is almost comforting, but they hiss from it nonetheless. Finally, Chara feels something other than the simultaneous emotional pain and emptiness that sits in their chest every day. The feeling of hot water from their shower running over the wounds almost brings tears to their eyes, but it's not all that unpleasant. 

-

They don't break their promise. It's a few weeks after their first incident, their back healed fully, since welts like that don't stick around long. Chara had a bad day, probably the worst they've had in months. They lay on their bed after showering, bedside lamp lighting the space around them. Water drips from the strands of Chara's hair onto their t-shirt, and their hands are tingling and twitching with the need to do something. To feel something other than the watered-down grief and anger that sits behind their ribs. No way I'm gonna feel that shit, Chara thought when they felt it in the beginning. They convinced it to be replaced with numbness. 

A memory pops into their mind. A big container of push pins sits on their desk, that they use to hang up posters. Chara's body automatically moves to the container, and they pick one out. The plastic that surrounds the needle is yellow. It reminds them of buttercups. 

When they get settled back on their bed, Chara hikes up one leg of their shorts to expose the unmarred skin of their upper thigh. They start out light, on the side of their thigh, because it won't hurt as much there. The cuts can barely be called that at first, starting out as cat scratches. They keep going like that until their hand twitches and accidentally slices a little harder, and Chara watches with fascination as tiny blood dots come up with it. Chara has seen themselves bleed before from accidental injuries, of course, but there's something about seeing it in this situation that makes them want to see more. 

Chara doesn't stop for a while. The cuts overlap, crossing over each other, their hand becoming braver as they savor the sting. They don't stop until the needle and the small area of cuts are smeared with blood. Chara is home alone, so they don't bother hiding their cuts as they stumble to the bathroom. They take a small cotton round and douse it with rubbing alcohol, and hiss hard with pain as they clean their wound carefully. The sight and feeling fascinates them so much they can't feel guilty. They don't feel guilty. They deserve this. 

Showering burns. They avoid putting soap directly on it. As they sit in class, they dig their nails into the cuts through their pants. Chara likes the burn of it. 

And the cutting never stops, and Chara doesn't care. They dig their nails into their recent cuts, reopening them, as they make the decision to climb up Mount Ebott.


End file.
